Well ,well
by Lady Amandine
Summary: This has practically nothing to do with a fanfiction... Maybe a fanfic of my life...She would understand.


I'm driving. Thinking. Just said goodbye. Thinking.

It's windy. It's always windy when I ride my bike. I hate it. It whips my face.

Thinking . What the... ? I am crying ! Is this the goddamn wind, or _something else_ ?

As tears cover my eyes, lots of questions are blurring my mind. How did I get to that point ? When did it start? Why ? I just know that it started this week. A very special week.

* * *

><p>Last Monday<p>

It was 7 pm. I was having an Omegle trip. Just had discovered it, with that «sherlockian sunday» thing. Cool, my stranger liked _Moulin Rouge !_ ! Great, that was the first one ever on Omegle. I started the conversation, and then, reading the answers of the stranger, I thought « Hmm. Reminds me a lot of _her. _». We kept talking. Now I was convinced, it was her. For sure. The way she talked about _Roxanne_ had got me on the way. Only her could talk like this , using noises as words like "aargh" or other stuff. She has that noisy, raw, pure, alive way of talking. It immediately sounds right because it's well-said. I interiorly laughed. I told her I had spotted her, and waited for the answer, because I wasn't _that_ sure. Haha, she couldn't believe her eyes. We had like **one **chance on 14,206. It was completely crazy ! She told me to record the conversation. Of course I'd do this was so epic ! We laughed together, and even decided of a secret code, to see if we could find ourselves several times. I was happy, I was lauging out loud now. But it seemed that my brain had just printed one sentance from that chatting. And now this sentance was making me feel… weird. So meaningful...« It's not even luck now , it's destiny who brings us back together! » she said. Destiny...

* * *

><p>I'm home now. Dad's yelling at me. Usual. He says I'm late. I answer saying I was supposed to get back around 6:30 pm. It's 6:45; so it's okay ! My dad. Sometimes I hate him. All this stuff had to happen because of him. Or maybe thanks to him…<p>

* * *

><p>Last Wednesday<p>

Pissed off. I was completely pissed off. That day was going to be a wonderful day, because there was _Sherlock_ on TV. I was so eager to see it, but because of my dad, I just couldn't. So this was why I was so angry at this moment. I wanted to cry, I wanted to shout, I wanted to kill, but instead, I just laid like a lazy girl on my bed. I had got to tell her. It would calm me down, I thought. So I took my phone; and began to type. I typed all the insults I knew to spread all my anger with words. I texted her. And waited. Breathing deeply, I took a look around me. My room. That place. My life. Posters of bands, lyrics, drawings, Sherlock lines written on my wall. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. Text. From her. Cool. I was already feeling better. It seemed that she was worried. She told me to calm down, and to explain her. So I explained the whole damned thing, and confessed that I was ashamed of my immature behavior. Yeah; I was right in my adolescence crisis. I expected a bad answer like «You're angry just because of that ? You totally crazy !Go to see a doctor !» Phone vibrated again. Heart was beating. Oh, thanks, it was alright. Apparently she had lived the same shit with _Doctor Who, _so no worries, she understood. Same for adolescence crisis. Wow, what kind of friend would say that ? She was behaving like a grand sister to me, gave me advice, forgave everything ! She was being really nice, and it went straight to my heart. Yeah, I'm a really sensitive girl. That kind of things could just make me cry. I thanked her. And, because I was bored, I kept texting her. I asked her what she was doing before our conversation. She was reading slash ! Haha that was definitely her ! I laughed, whereas a few minutes ago I was crying. The wonderful power of friendship.

Later, I went to the bathroom, still with my phone. It's always in the bathroom that I have my most creative thoughts. Sitting on a toilet could be very inspiring sometimes ! So, I began to type. I thought I was writing a sort of poem. A poem, for her. A kind of thank-you-for-being-there poem. I quite like it. A poem, written by a girl to another girl.

* * *

><p>I get in my room. I don't feel inspired to do my homework, my mind seems gone far away. I take a look at the drawing. It was Thursday, it was awesome.<p>

* * *

><p>Last Thursday<p>

«It's gonna be a glorious day», says the Radiohead song. Apparently, it was just a Thursday, so we just had two hours of free-time. But those hours were going to be awesome. She had just proposed us to go outside of the school. I told her there was a wonderful prairie not so far. So we decided to go there with another friend. When we finally arrived, we just sat on the grass. It was sunny, and quite hot, the grass was fresh. I was feeling good. So we laid on the grass. I chose to listen to music, so did she. Headphones plugged-in, I closed my eyes and relaxed. I was having good time and wanted to appreciate it. But then, I was bothered by a colony of ladybugs who apparently wanted to visit my pants. I said something like «Wrong way dead end street , do not enter» with a joyful smile, and all I could hear was her, giggling, laughing, and that made me smile even more. I don't know if she was actually laughing at me, or because I was funny, anyway I made her giggle, it's all that counts.

We stayed like this for a couple of hours, doing nothing, just laying on the grass, listening to music, laughing, talking, or maybe simply contemplating the nature around us : grass, grass, grass, trees, grass, trees, grass, people walking down. I think I probably fell asleep maybe for five minutes, but I was too happy to think about sleeping. But something else distracted me : there was a weird and black and kind-of wasp roaming above us, and I was staring at it like if it was going to fly right towards me and sting every single part of my poor body. I always hated wasps, flies, bees and all that flying stuff. The noise they make, how they look, the stupid way they fly, the danger they could represent, all these things mixed up scare the hell out of me.

So, suddenly awake because of that goddamn wasp, I immediately stood up and stared at the dangerous thing. But then, distracted, I took a look at her. And suddenly it seemed that the wasp didn't exist anymore. What I was staring at didn't need words. She was innocently sleeping, turned on one side, her mouth was barely open. Aaaawww I found this so cute… «This deserves a picture-taking», I thought. But finally I didn't take the photograph, because it could have woken her up and because I was not a paparazzi !...

At 11 pm, I felt inspired in the bathroom again, so I absolutely wanted to draw right at this moment. I was supposed to be sleeping, so I almost drew in the dark, just by the light of a little lamp. I wanted to have a souvenir of this afternoon. So I was going to draw it. I wanted to draw her sleeping. I wanted to draw that body, all sleepy and cute and probably dreaming... I wanted to draw that barely-opened mouth... And I wanted my drawing to become alive just to see that lovely breast breathing, softly folding her T-shirt. I wanted it to become alive so I could hug it, because I wanted to so bad. I wanted to quietly take her hand, and softly caress her skin. When I suddenly realized what I was thinking about, I felt weird. And then I couldn't get this picture off of my head all night long.

* * *

><p>I love the drawing. I stare at it a long moment. Thinking. Today was a glorious day, for sure. Or maybe a weird one. Or maybe an important one. A turning point in my life. I can remember every detail, every said word, every look taken… I've got a silly love song stuck in my head. That silly love song.<p>

* * *

><p>Today (Saturday), after lunch<p>

I was sitting on the floor. Next to me, there was a guitar. A _Fender _that belongs to my father. I took the heavy thing in my tiny child-like hands. I had got an idea. I don't really know how to play the guitar. I tried, but failed. I'm not made for music, I guess. I wanted to write a song. So I just played random notes, until I found something interesting, like a little sad riff. Perfect. Described exactly what I was feeling. I «played» it, and played it again, tried to find a logic way to continue it. After a lot of trials, I decided to sing along to the riff. I was using the poem I had written a few days ago as potential lyrics. I changed them a bit to fit in the music rythm. Then, I recorded my voice, just singing and not playing at all, to see if I sang correctly. But the lyrics were so important to me that I got entertained by the song, and invented other rythms during singing. I was totally feeling good, but also moved. I finally recorded a final version of my voice only, in the bathroom again. I found it so right and pure that I just let it as a voice recording, a kind of accapella song. Satisfied, I suddenly wondered why I had done this. «Should I text her the recording ? Would she understand ? Should I do it in another way ?» I asked myself. Anyway, I thought I had got to tell her soon.

I had to leave. We were supposed to watch the episode of _Sherlock _together. I rode my bike, and tried to drive as fast as possible like if my life had depended on it. I reached her home thirty minutes later. For once, I was not late. I said hello to her dad and while I was parking my bike he called his daughter. Once. Twice. And then a big exasperated «Yeeeeeeeeessss» was heard, maybe by all the neighborhood. I waited nervously for her, arranged my hair, cleaned my eyes, as if I had a rendez-vous or stuff like that. She finally appeared at the door with a big smile on her face, showing her white teeth. The first thing she said is that she was going to buy a new guitar, a _Stratocaster_. I told her to take it in blue, because Billie Joe's first guitar was like this. I came in, and as I took my shoes off, she said «Nice socks !» pointing at my black and orange stripped socks. «Yeah I know, you already said that another day. And I told you that I have plenty of stripped socks like these» I replied, smiling back. Then I came to take a pair of slippers, the blue ones, my favorite. I quietly sat on my usual seat : the one on the right-hand side, generally next to cartons and magazines. I was not really talking, just observing a lot. I was quite confused because of the... this. My eyes were catching every single move she made, and were trying to read the different expressions on her face. Then, we finally began the episode of _Sherlock_. It was _the_ _Hounds of Baskerville. _All I knew about this is that it was the only Sherlock Holmes book I had actually read. But the BBC version was quite modern and at the same time very loyal to the original characters of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, brilliantly played by Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman. During the whole episode, we spotted every slash evidence, like the scene of the coffee with sugar or the line on Sherlock's cheek bones and collar. We also laughed a lot at the first Sherlock apparition, when he was trying at all costs to find cigarettes. Oh and the Bluebell case. So funny !

The episode reached its end, with the breath-holding cliffhanger at the end, announcing a great episode 3. We laughed so hard because she couldn't finish her sentances because of excitation. We couldn't resist to watch again the slash moments. Fan-girling is fan-girling. Then, we had a long talk about slash. She showed me slash videos of Sherlock and John. She wanted to create me an account on . Why not ? I accepted and we signed up for me. And also, she wanted me to sign a petition against ACTA. I agreed and signed. We were still talking about slash, I think it was our main topic that day ! She said that when she had discovered it, she had got scared because she couldn't believe that fantasize on a gay couple of characters was something actually normal for girls. Again, I was watching every movement she made. Her pianist-hands waving the air as she was talking, her lips moving in harmony, the glitter in her eyes... And then I took a glance at her clothes : boy-like blue jeans, classy white shirt, barman vest : the perfect combination. Talking about slash, I secretly wanted to do something powerful to close that wonderful day. But, if I dared, she would have reacted so badly, I thought. So I just kept not talking much, observing and smiling like a shy idiot. But inside of me there was still the silly song, and I hardly resisted not to tell her what I think is the truth : I may be in love with her. Yeah I know it sounds weird and funny but it's not a joke. I seriously mean it and that scares the hell out of me now because I don't know where I am : I thought I was straight , now I'm turning... bisexual . As the Green Day song says; «What's happening to me ?». This song is the really pwoper song to my situation : Billie Joe explains that at seventeen he found out that he was bisexual and was wondering what was happening to him. Exactly like me now.

* * *

><p>So here's all the thing. I love her. I think. I noticed that's slash between John and Sherlock which made me realize this. After all if it 's normal for those two men to be in love with each other, why wouldn't it be for she and I ? But probably she doesn't love me back. On top of that it becomes so difficult not to think about it when we are together. So any-fucking-way I had to tell. I just hope it will not destroy our strong friendship, even if it probably will .<p>

* * *

><p><em>She's so kind to me <em>

_She can even read through my mind_

_I need her so badly _

_To calm down the whining child _

_I refuse to grow up _

_And she's always trying to cheer me up _

_She's so fucking clever _

_She's a music genius_

_She can become a famous composer_

_Because she's playing like...Jesus !_

_I can't tell because I know nothing _

_But I know that when she plays _

_I have that strange feeling _

_Something is happening _

_Just in front of my eyes_

_Like if her music was_

_The blood that pumps through my veins_

_From my ears to my toes _

_And then she stops_

_The magic disappears_

_And life goes on and on _

_She knows everything about me _

_Whereas we met a few months ago_

_She understands me more than I do _

_She has the same tastes as me _

_She's like the sister I've never had_

_And yeah , that makes me feel a bit sad _

_We would have spent our life together _

_Watching Sherlock , reading slash _

_Singing to Muse , crying to Radiohead_

_Wearing shirts and ties_

_And laughing with each other_

_And laughing with each other_

_And laughing with each other_

_Sometimes I wonder if I love her_

_As much as I could love a guy _

_Should I feel guilty for finding her cute when she sleeps ?_

_Is it wrong to be happy when she lies next to me ?_

_Is it wrong to feel shivers when I touch her skin ? _

_Should I feel guilty for caring too much ?_

_What the hell is going on my mind ?_

_All my doubts are making me blind _

_Sometimes I wonder if I love her_

_As much as I could love a guy _

_But I never want to say goodbye _

_To my hardly-loved grand sister. _


End file.
